


Hear the Calling of the Ocean, It Speaks of Home

by resha04



Series: Home is in the Ocean [1]
Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Cards as Characters, Found Family, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 22:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19473481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resha04/pseuds/resha04
Summary: It’s like being back in Gouki’s ship, except they feel more like his blood family because they know his father’s story and talk about it with as much familiarity and nostalgia as he does. Gouki’s crews is his family and he treasures it,but  being around Argos and the others makes him feel whole.On his search for his long lost family, Leon meets familiar strangers, witnesses magic, and learns about his ancestry.(And maybe find a new family, too, along the way)





	Hear the Calling of the Ocean, It Speaks of Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for my friend who likes Leon and Algos, as characters/cards and as family. Hope she enjoys it.  
> There are cameos from other TCG-related anime, like Future Card Buddyfight and Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal and Arc V, all of which are our (or my) favorite characters. If there is any of you who also watch those anime, I hope you have fun discovering them :)  
> I didn't watch Vanguard V, and only a bit of canon!Vanguard, so I experimented with Leon's characterization here, based on what I caught from my friend's telling of it. I tried making him more cheerful and light-hearted, like in V, but with the canon age of 15. I apologize beforehand if you feel it to be OOC.
> 
> (I know the official translation is Algos, but before it came out, I've grown too used of calling him Argos, so I stick with it. It's very self-indulgent, I know)

There’s a storm coming.

Leon squints at the distance, where the fluffy white clouds from earlier have muddied into storm gray. Around him the sea is swaying, the waves all too eagerly rocking his boat, and the wind slaps the sails harshly.

He throws his sack of haul onto the deck and heaves himself up, then grabs the rope and starts rolling the sail, throwing a towel over himself haphazardly on the way.

He’s halfway through the storm sail when the storm reaches him, sweeping from the horizon with swells that pound the boat close to toppling and wind that slams into the sails’ embrace. Thunder booms above and the entire world seems to be howling, angry and grieving.

It’s not his first time facing a storm in the sea, but it’s his first time doing it alone. Gouki had taught him everything that needs to be done, but it’s still different when he’s holding the boat on his own, not as a crew but as the captain.

_“Don’t be afraid of the storm, Leon.” His father says, a blurry face and an ever-changing voice and a square of light of the window. “The storm is just—“_

There’s a loud roar and he’s only had a split second realization before a huge wave hits the boat, engulfing the small contraption like a giant locking it in a hug. His hands slip from the steering wheel and the wave wrenches him into the dark, freezing water. He is a good swimmer and diver, but everytime he manages to resurface, the waves would push him down again, mercilessly and relentlessly, pulling him farther away from the boat.

In the haze of his struggle, he feels something clamp around his waist and push him up, solid and firm. He breaks through the surface with a loud gasp, sucking air greedily as rain pelts his face like a thousand freezing needles. He sees his boat being thrown and hauled in the distance and starts swimming to it, expecting to fight against the swells and tides, but to his amazement the water around him is calm, as if he’s enveloped by a bubble of protection. It pushes him, not roughly, across the raging sea, and he can swear it steadies his boat for a second when he pulls himself onto it.

He rides the storm for what feels like hours, throughout the rest of the evening into the night, and when it finally ceases into a steady drizzle, he heaves-to the boat and collapses into the bed in his cabin, only half-dried, and goes right to sleep.

*

Leon wakes up to a damp bed and a bright cabin, uncomfortable and shivering. He changes out of his wet clothes, belatedly, he knows, and towels the rest of his hair dry as he starts the stove and boils some water.

The morning after the storm is normal, unremarkably so, with clear sky and tufts of cotton-white clouds, not one graying in sight. The boat sways gently, rhythmically, as if it has already forgotten of last night’s horror. Leon finds his mug, chipped and missing the ear from its dive to the floor last night, rinses it once with clear water, and drops a teabag into it, frowning at his diminishing store of tea.

When he walks out to the deck, a seagull is perching on the mast. It regards him with glinting beady eyes for one, two seconds, before flying away. Leon watches it go, marveling at how its feathers take a bluish hue in the sun. The dock is already dried and warm, so like every morning, he sits down and dangles his feet over the edge. He’s halfway sipping his tea when he looks down,

and meets the eyes of a man, half-submerged, in the shadow of the boat.

Both of them freeze; Leon mid-sip, the man mid-sink. Leon lowers his mug slowly, sensing every bit of delicacy in the situation, and says, as calmly and casually as he can, “Hello.”

The man vanishes instantly before he can say another word. Leon, impulsively, dives into the water after him, and manages to grab his sleeve. The man pulls away reflexively, but when he turns and sees him, his expression twists into surprise before he snatches and pulls Leon to the surface.

“What are you doing?!” He stares down at him incredulously, keeping holds on Leon’s sides like he’s holding a small child, someone who’s in danger of drowning. “Why would you go and get yourself wet again?! You’ve just got dried!”

It certainly isn’t a response Leon was expecting. “I’m fine.” He’s also faintly aware that he’s dripping with water but the man is dry, even though they’re in water. And his grip is familiar, still fresh in his memory from the storm last night. “I can swim just alright.”

The man abruptly releases him and the agitation on his face melts, replaced by an almost embarrassment. “My apologies. It was… pure reflex.”

Leon looks at him—at his marine uniform, the wing-like things on his back, his sunlit sea eyes—keeping his hand fisted on the man’s sleeve. “You helped me yesterday, didn’t you? In the storm.”

The man averts his eyes and doesn’t answer.

“Thank you.”

The man looks conflicted at that, but his tone is gentler when he replies, “It was my pleasure.” before it hardens immediately into a firmer one. “Now, please get back up and dry yourself, thoroughly. And change your clothes.”

“Only if you promise you wouldn’t leave.”

There’s something in the man, something magical and secret and _familiar_ , in a way he can’t explain, something that makes him recall that memory again, in his presence.

_“Don’t be afraid of the storm, Leon.” The windchime hanging by the window, mother padding into the room with dry laundry, father’s brief ruffle of his hair, the smell of fish and salty air._

The man looks like he would refuse, would pry his hand off his sleeve or maybe vanish into thin air, and Leon tightens his grip. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want to. I can keep this a secret.”

The man scrutinizes him, but his gaze is not heavy or measuring. He looks at him as if he’s remembering something, or trying to commit him to memory, which one, Leon doesn’t know.

Eventually, he says, “I promise.”

*

Leon makes himself another mug of tea—he’d spilled the previous one in his rushed diving—and pours one for the man too. He sets it down in a safe distance from the edge of the boat and sits back down on his previous spot. True to his words, the man is still there, in the shadow of the boat with water lapping against him, the same troubled expression etched on his face.

“Do you mind getting up and sitting here? It’s uncomfortable if I have to look down at you like this.”

“I would rather not.”

“Why?”

“It’s more favorable for me if your shipmates don’t know about me.”

“There’s no shipmate.”

The man frowns, perplexed. “Pardon me?”

“There’s just me.”

Leon watches the man’s expression morph into shock as his words sink in.

“Just— You’re living on a boat all by yourself?!”

“Yes.” The man looks as if the very idea is an aberration. Leon finds it a bit endearing. “It’s never been a problem.”

After a momentary hesitation, the man flings himself up—no, the _water_ does—grabs the edge of the boat, and heaves himself up next to him, all in one fluid motion. He sits cross-legged next to Leon, facing him, looking a bit tentative at first before straightening.

For some reason, it’s hard not to smile at the sight. “This is much better, isn’t it?”

“Young man, why in the dragon’s name are you by yourself? Have the rules of human world changed, that now it is acceptable for a child to be by himself, in the vast sea, on a boat, without an adult to supervise him?”

That’s quite a speech, enough to take him aback. The man looks sincere, as if Leon being alone in the boat is a crime committed against _him_.

“I’m fifteen.”

“Therefore, you’re a child still!”

“You called me ‘young man’ earlier.”

“Because it’s disrespectful to call one ‘boy’ or ‘kid’!”

“I’m Leon.”

Whatever the man is going to say stutters and halts in his mouth. Something flickers in his eyes, too fast to catch, before he goes back to look firm and disapproving. “Please don’t change the topic.”

“What’s your name?”

The man can just disregard his question, with how agitated he seems about the whole situation, but he doesn’t. With a short sigh, he relents. “I’m Argos.”

“Nice to meet you, Argos-san.” Leon smiles and inclines his head to the second mug. “Please have some tea.”

Argos looks at the tea like he’s not sure what to do with it, but he takes it anyway. “Thank you.” After a moment, he says, clearly unwilling to drop the issue. “Why are you by yourself, Leon? Where is your family?”

“I’m looking for them.” Leon sips his tea. The steam wafts up, warming his nose, and he lingers a bit longer.

“Are you separated from them?”

“Yeah. When I was little.”

“So you have been searching for them ever since?”

Leon looks at him. Argos seems earnestly troubled, more than a stranger ought to be, like Leon is a family’s friend instead of someone he’s just met.

“No, I’ve only started about seven months ago.” He sips his tea. “My parents passed away when I was around one or two years old, and my aunt took me in. I grew up raised by her and her family, but when I was five, there was a great storm, and a huge wave knocked me out of the boat. While I was still tossed around in the sea, another ship rescued me. I’d been with them ever since.”

He doesn’t usually explain that to anyone, not without encouragement, so it surprises him that he just did. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t talked to anyone for months that his vocal chord practically jumps at the chance to exercise itself. Or maybe it’s because of the intent look Argos leveled at him.

Argos’ brows furrow. “What happened? Did they treat you badly that you left?”

“What? No,” Leon gives him a scandalized look. “they’re very good to me. I’ve always wanted to search for my aunt, but they didn’t let me until recently.”

“Ah, I’ve assumed wrong then.” A tinge of relief settles on Argos’ face. “My apologies.”

The perplexed look is back on his face a moment later. “But why are you by yourself? Isn’t there anyone willing to go with you?”

“I don’t want to trouble anyone.” Gouki had offered to help, but this is his problem, his mission. He might have to travel the world, and he didn’t want to burden the older man with it. Gouki is a merchant, with a younger sister and a whole crew to take care of. Leon isn’t going to add more to his already heavy responsibility. “Gouki-san, the captain of the ship who saved me, gave me this boat. And he taught me all that I need to know. It’s a great help already.”

It’s hard to read the look on Argos’ face. His expression is a mix of many emotions, all thrown in together and each showing just very subtly, none of them a happy one. He looks so troubled that Leon has the urge to reach out and pat his arm, but he refrains.

“What about you, Argos-san?”

Argos blinks. “What about me?”

“Why are you out in the sea?”

He looks down at his tea, still untouched, seems to be mulling whether or not to answer. Leon rubs his mug, savoring the residual warmth, and waits.

“I’m looking for my comrades.”

“Your comrades?” Leon’s heart jumps and slams against his ribcages, once, painfully. “Are there more like you?”

_“Don’t be afraid of the storm, Leon. It’s just the dragon calling for his people.”_

“Yes.” Argos shifts, repositioning his legs, like a nervous habit. “We were scattered around the world.”

“Is that why there are sometimes so much storm in a year? Are you calling for your people?”

Argos raises his head and looks at him. His eyes are wide with surprise, and for a moment the tension vanishes from his face. “What do you—What made you think that?”

“My father told me. He said, the storm is just the dragon calling for his people.” His memories of his parents are fuzzy, blurry at best, and the details always change (did his mother have brown or black hair? Were her eyes blue or violet? Did his father have a scar on his chin, or is it just him projecting?), but that one moment with the watery light from the window and that story is the most vivid, the most consistent. He’s been clinging on to that harder than he’d thought he would.

“Ah.” Nostalgia floods Argos’ face, softening it into an almost smile. “That’s an ancient story. Back when the kingdom still prospered, mothers used to tell their children that to comfort them whenever there was a storm in the sea. It wasn’t true, though. Your father told you that story?”

“Yeah.” Maybe that’s why Argos feels familiar. He knows that story, and might even have lived it, someone with a connection to a story that only Leon knows, the only thing he has of his parents.

“Is that why you’re not surprised of me?” Argos gestures to himself, to his dry clothes and the draping wings on his back.

“Yeah.” Leon nods, feeling a smile spread on his face. “I’ve never thought of that story as mere fairy tale. My father didn’t seem like the type to tell one, or so I thought.”

Argos’ face dims at that. Leon downs the rest of his tea and taps Argos’ mug. “Aren’t you going to drink?”

“Oh… I will.” He sips it obligingly.

“Do you want more sugar?”

“This is fine. Thank you.”

Leon pulls his feet up and tucks them underneath him, mirroring Argos’ position. “You said you’re looking for your comrades.” The older man raises his eyes from the tea. Leon fights the urge to squirm and look away. “Would you like to look for them together?”

Argos gapes at him. “What?”

“I’m looking for your family and you’re looking for your comrades.” He runs his thumb across the mug, feeling the peeled picture of a dolphin—it’s his mug back in Gouki’s ship. Nagisa forced him to take it with him. ‘So you won’t be lonely without us!’ she’s said—“Our goals are similar. And maybe there’s something I can do to help you. You helped me last night and I haven’t done anything to repay you.”

“There’s no need—“

“I want to.” Leon grips his mug harder. His other thumb bumps against the stub of the missing ear. “To help you.”

It can be very quiet in the sea, past the whisper of wind and the water, or maybe it’s because he can hear his heart in his ears. Argos seems to think hard—he always seems to think over everything too hard and Leon has only known him for fifteen minutes—and Leon allows himself to hope. Because Argos knows the story and might have lived it, and he speaks of it like it’s a normal thing, a familiar thing, and it’s the only memento Leon has of his parents, so he doesn’t want to let him go just yet.

Argos’ sigh rings all too loud in his ears, and his heart hangs suspended, one word and it either plummets or leaps.

“Okay.”

Argos is almost, almost smiling, beneath the troubled frown and past the slanted shoulders. “Would you do me the honor of assisting me in the search of my comrades?”

The laugh Leon breathes out is shaky in the sea wind, and so very relieved. “I’ve just said that I’d help you look. Don’t be so formal.”

Argos’ sigh sounds a bit like a laugh, too.

*

He can’t help but wonder, though, after that, _why_ is it that Argos agrees.

* * *

The lighthouse hasn’t changed, if it ever will. It stands humbly on a small patch of rocky land, the gallery’s railings twinkling in the sunlight. Leon moors his boat on a small and mossy but surprisingly sturdy dock at one side of the island, and hops down.

“I’ll be right back.” He says to Argos, who’s now back in the shadow of the boat.

“Take your time.” The man submerges completely with only the slightest of ripple, it’s like he just dissolves into water.

There’s a door at the bottom of the lighthouse, made of wood and weathered by the salty air, decorated with a rusty knocker. Leon raps it against the door, ten or so knocks, but he only gets halfway through it before a dog comes barking and hurtling toward him, and then he finds himself pinned underneath a hundred pounds of an excited and very fluffy dog, its golden fur tickling his nose.

“Hi, Roci—“

The dog, much to his dismay, proceeds to lick his face.

There’s a quick, but not rushed steps on the stairs inside, and the door swings open.

“Rocinante, how many times have I told you not to—“ The old man on the door looks down. “Oh. Ooohh,” He takes off his sunglasses and bends down to get a better look at him. “Leon? Leon from Gouki’s crews?”

“Hello, Kodo-san.” Leon wheezes. “Long time no see.”

“Long time indeed!” The old man pries the dog off him with some difficulty. “Ten months, if I recall correctly! How have you been?”

“I’m okay.” Leon pulls himself to his feet and rubs the back of his head he’d hit on his fall, wincing. “You look well, Kodo-san.”

“I always am.” The old man ushers him inside, his crinkled face pulled into a grin. “I heard from Noboru that you left school?”

“For the moment.” He wipes his face, wet with dog saliva, with his sleeve and suppresses a grimace.

“To look for your family?” The old man shoos the dog away before closing the door behind them.

“Yeah.”

The old man hums. “It will be a difficult journey.”

“I know.”

The old man turns and regards him quietly, thoughtfully, beneath his heavy, graying eyebrows. Leon holds his gaze evenly, until eventually, the old man smiles, satisfied, and the strung-up tension melts.

“So, I’m guessing you’re here for some shopping.”

“Yes. I need fuel, and oil for the lamp, and matches too.” He runs a mental checklist. “And soap for the laundry.”

“And the usual?” The old man is already steering him toward the stairs.

Leon nods. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t!” The old man claps his back with enough force to send him stumbling up the stairs, laughing. “You’ve been showering here ever since you’re still a tiny kid. Why would I mind now?”

The second floor of the lighthouse consists of a kitchen and a small shower space crammed to one corner, partitioned from the rest of the room with blue plastic curtain. It’s not the most comfortable of arrangement, but Leon grew up showering there with the mixed smell of coconut shampoo and scrambled egg, so he’s used to it. Sunlight spills in from the windows, brightening the room.

After shower, Leon pays for his shopping, then hauls the fuel first into the boat, Rocinante the dog trailing eagerly behind him.

“Kodo-san, have you heard of anything?” He asks when he comes back for the rest of the items. “Anything interesting? Anything at all?”

“Hmmm,” The old man strokes his chin. “I’ve heard nothing that might have to do with your family, but that one circus ship with the funny name stopped by here just three days ago, and the peddler boy talked about something rather… fantastic.”

The old man’s eyes twinkle. “He said that that huge fishing boat, the Heartland, caught a mermaid.”

Leon’s breath hitches. “A mermaid?”

The old man nods. “Mm hm.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s Sora.” That peddler boy might not be a bad kid, but he gives off the vibe of someone untrustworthy, whose words shouldn’t be taken seriously. “Most of the times he’s just bluffing.”

“That’s how he is, indeed.” The old man huffs out a wry chuckle. “But he said he heard it from his friend, that ill boy from the Heartland. Sora might be a little gremlin, but one thing I know about that boy, and that is he never lies by using his friend’s name. Back then, maybe. Now, I don’t think so.”

Leon is skeptical about it, but the old man is wiser than him and has known everyone for longer than he does. More than that, Leon knows he can trust him not to sell him out.

“Did he tell you anything more? Maybe what the mermaid looks like, or… the direction of the Heartland?”

*

Two nights later, Leon steers his boat to one side of the plastic island and drops the anchor. It’s a dim night, with misty clouds layering the moon, dulling its light. He swims to the island, treads around the hill of plastic waste, and peers through his handheld telescope.

It’s easy to spot the Heartland, even from the distance. It’s huge, sleek white with red hull, with gantry and a wheelhouse and a tall masthead jutting to the sky, its light blinking like a morse code. Its appearance lives up every bit to its fame.

Leon lowers the telescope and turns halfway around. Standing behind him, hidden in the plastic hill’s shadow, Argos frowns at the fishing boat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just…” Argos turns the frown to him. His expression is tight, not quite anxious, but reluctant. “I still cannot agree with you getting involved in this.”

Leon suppresses a sigh. “Argos-san, we’ve been talking about this.”

“Yes, and while I understand your argument that I am simply too conspicuous, I still think it’s much safer if _I_ go in there instead of _you_.”

Argos told him that he’s a marine general, but he’s much more of a mother hen than a leader, if anything, Leon thinks, wryly.

“I’ll be very careful.” He promises, long suffering, for the nth time. “And you have your own part to do, right?”

Argos sighs.

*

He climbs into the ship by the anchor’s chain. It’s late at night, but there are still a few sailors milling on the deck, chatting and smoking. There are plenty of shadows everywhere, cast by the wheelhouse and mast, which he slips into as quietly as he can. Getting into the main deck is more difficult, with sailors keep passing through the narrow corridor and nothing for him to hide behind. He has to wait for several minutes, the rough wind chilling his wet diving suit, until there’s a momentary pause in the passing of people and he can slink in.

It’s dim below. The lamp bulbs hung along the ceiling glow somber white, illuminating the corridor in patches and throwing the space outside their reach in blue darkness. He presses himself against the wall and treads in the dark, keeping away from noises of chatter and searching for a guarded door.

He’s creeping back from one end of the deck when a door in front of him swings open and a sailor totters out, yawning. He’s moving toward him and Leon plasters himself against the wall, trying to meld with the darkness, but then another door, right behind him, opens.

He’s trapped in the middle.

His brain goes into a split second overdrive, and he does the first thing that comes to mind: he darts into the just-opened room, grabs the person on the door with him—that person is surprisingly small and light, not a sturdy-built sailor he’d expected—and kicks the door closed.

There’s a pausing of steps outside, but it resumes without any attempt to check into the room. Leon intends to wait for a few more seconds, but the person beneath him wheezes, and it’s such an ugly, painful sound that he reflexively pulls his hand away from the person’s mouth.

It’s a kid, small and pale, and as soon as Leon releases him he buckles into a fit of wet coughing, the air seeming to be wrenched out of him. It makes his heart clench, and hesitantly, he reaches out and rubs the boy’s back until the coughing subsides.

“Who—“ The boy raises his head, still wheezing, his breathing too loud to be healthy. “Who are you?”

“Where’s the mermaid?”

He has his hand clamped on the boy’s bony shoulder, readying himself to use force, or to threaten, even though the thought of doing it knots his insides uncomfortably. The boy’s eyes widen, but instead of fear, it’s hope that shines in them.

“Are you here to save her?”

His thought process skids to a halt. “What?”

“Please save her.” The boy grabs the front of his diving suit, but the slick, wet material slips from his feeble grasp. In the glow of the nightlight, he looks miserable, and sad and desperate, with dark bags under his eyes and sickly skin. “Father is going to do something to her, I don’t know what, but it’s bad, it must be. And brother—“ He’s speaking quickly, as if he’s afraid his breath will leave him before he can finish. “Brother can’t do anything. I don’t like it, and- and he doesn’t like it either, but we can’t. Do anything. Father won’t listen.”

Leon didn’t expect this. If the boy were someone older he wouldn’t have believed him so easily, but he remembers what the old man of the lighthouse said about Sora’s friend, and looking at that pleading face, he decides to believe in it.

“Where is she?”

*

They cross to the other end of the deck as silently and swiftly as they can, and stops at a corner to peer at the door guarded by a pair of sailors.

The boy, Haruto, looks up at him for affirmation and Leon nods, gripping the borrowed bat tighter. They’ve devised a plan back in the boy’s room: Haruto would distract the guards and Leon would knock them out. As for the rest, he hopes that Argos’ distraction would be enough to clear the way for them.

It’s not difficult for Haruto to do his part. He stumbles out of the corner and drops to the floor, and lets out the fit of coughing he’s been holding in. One of the guards rushes toward him in alarm, and Leon promptly whacks the back of his head when he crouches to check on Haruto. The guard falls with a dull thump, and his friend, probably thinking that the bat-bearing shadow is threatening Haruto too, charges forward, his fist raised.

Leon readies himself for a fight, but Haruto leaps, grabs the man’s legs, and sweeps him off balance. Leon knocks him out cold too, then he hurriedly pulls Haruto free from beneath the man.

“Are you okay?”

Haruto nods. His lungs don’t seem to permit him words yet, but he stands up, a bit wobbly, and pulls Leon toward the now unguarded room.

It’s cramped inside, filled with crates and boxes lining the walls and stacked high, with several wall-mounted lamps casting weak, yellow light. In the middle of the room stands a water tank, and inside it, curled in the too-small space, is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

She’s all delicate curves and slender, long limbs, with silky skin and rippling, pale brown hair. At where her lean torso ends, an emerald tail replaces legs, with shimmering scales and a pair of elegant fins. Her downcast eyes are rimmed by long lashes, and the expression on her face is more irritated than worried.

For a moment, Leon forgets everything and merely stares.

Then she lifts her eyes, sees him, and the small frown marring her eyebrows smoothens into surprise.

“It’s okay.” Haruto says, raising his hands placatingly. “He’s a friend. He’s here to save you.”

But the mermaid’s gaze is trained on Leon, her fingers pressed white pads against the glass, like she’s looking at something she doesn’t believe is real.

“You should stay back.” Leon tells Haruto, and the small boy retreats to the corner of the room, behind a stack of crates.

“You should, too.” He says to the mermaid, and she pulls back to the opposite side of the tank obligingly, but her eyes never leave him.

They have had no time to look for an axe, so the bat would have to suffice, _must_ suffice. Leon starts pummeling at the glass, all too aware of the noises he makes.

He’s finally made a crack when a commotion breaks out outside, men shouting and feet thudding against the deck above them. Haruto squeaks from his hiding place and Leon starts pummeling harder and faster, ignoring the soreness gripping his arms. At one point the mermaid motions for him to stop and starts slamming her shoulder against the crack, throwing her entire weight to it.

The tank breaks with an ear-piercing sound and water rushes out, sweeping across the room and slithering out from under the door. The mermaid tumbles out with it and Leon catches her before she falls on the glass shards. He staggers under her weight and the momentum but manages to stay standing, and starts dragging her to the door, held open by Haruto.

They peer outside. The corridor in front of the room is empty, save for the two still unconscious guards. The commotion is still going on upstairs, and they can hear the crews’ flying out of cabins and onto the deck, but no one comes their way, much to Leon’s relief. He half-carries half-drags the mermaid through the corridor as Haruto scouts ahead on every turn. They manage to get to the ladder without running into anyone, miraculously.

“Sorry, I can’t go with you.” Haruto says quickly. He looks so downtrodden that Leon can’t help but feeling sorry for him. “I— Good luck, Leon-san.”

“Thank you, Haruto.” He says with every fraction of sincerity he can manage in his winded condition. He catches a glimpse of the mermaid giving the small boy a smile before she encircles her arms around his neck. Without waiting for his breath to even out, he climbs up.

It’s chaotic on deck. Sailors are scattered around, shouting and screaming, throwing spears or shooting at what seems to be giant tentacles rising up from the sea. The tentacles, unperturbed by the spears and bullets piercing through them, snatch the sailors one by one and throw them into the sea.

Leon hears a quiet huff of laughter in his ears.

“Oh my, General. Teasing youngsters like this,” The mermaid murmurs, delightedly.

He gapes at it for a few seconds before the mermaid blows lightly into his ear, snapping him out of it. Thanks to Argos’ attempt of distraction, they manage to get to the edge of the deck without being noticed by anyone. The mermaid leaps into the water first, and Leon is halfway climbing over the railing when a hand grabs his arm.

He whips around and comes face to face with a young man, his face a cold, stiff mask, holding a diving knife to his neck.

“Don’t move.” He says, tonelessly calm. “Come down, else I would be forced to—“

Leon doesn’t wait for him to finish. He wrenches himself free with all the strength he can manage and drops down. The black water is waiting for him, but he never arrives. Something catches his leg mid-air, something hard and metallic, and starts floating him back up. He kicks it with his other leg and grapples for anything to hold, but finds nothing, and they’re almost on board—

there’s a loud screeching and flurry of feathers, and suddenly his capturer is slammed against the side of the ship with a squawk, him with it. It jolts and yells, fighting the creature who’s mercilessly pummeling itself against it, before another slam loosens its hold on him and Leon wriggles free.

As soon as he breaks under water, the mermaid is on his side.

“Hold on.” She says as she circles her arm around him tightly. They shoot through the water, leaving the ship and the chaos behind them.

*

They don’t resurface until they reach his boat, securely hidden behind the hill of plastic. The mermaid has formed an air bubble around his head for him to breathe during their escape, but the speed still left him dizzy and disoriented for a while after that.

Argos joins them shortly later, seeming a bit breathless. He visibly relaxes at the sight of them.

“Cynthia, Leon, are you both okay? Are you harmed?”

“Leon got a cut.” Cynthia informs. “But it’s a small one. I’ve looked at it.”

“A cut?” Argos’ gaze snaps to him. “Where? How did you get it?”

“It’s okay, it’s just a graze.” Leon inches higher into the island, away from Argos’ impending fussing. “Someone from the ship threatened me with a knife, but I got away.”

Argos opens his mouth, probably to admonish him or to insist seeing the wound or something else, but Leon gives him a look that’s bordering on a glare.

“It’s. Okay.”

Argos relents, with much reluctance. “…Okay. Alright.”

Cynthia watches the two of them with a poorly restrained laughter, her lips pressed together and amusement twinkling in her eyes. Argos gives her a half-hearted glare and she bursts into giggles. He sighs.

“We should go now. The farther away we are from that ship, the better.”

They don’t disagree, so Leon climbs back into the boat, reels the anchor in, and steers the boat to the opposite direction. The uproar in the Heartland grows fainter as they sail farther away.

Later that night, when Leon has changed into a dry shirt and pants and patched the cut on his neck, he asks about the attempt of distraction earlier.

“I didn’t know you can summon a sea monster.”

“Sea monster?” Argos looks briefly confused before it registers. “It wasn’t a sea monster. It was just water.”

Leon frowns dubiously at him. “Water.”

“Just water.” Argos confirms. “What did you think it was?”

“They looked like tentacles,” Leon recalls how they snatched the crews and threw them overboard. “so I thought it was a sea monster.”

But looking back at it now, the spears and bullets literally went through the said ‘tentacles’. He just didn’t pay enough attention because he was in the middle of a more dire task.

“Sadly, we don’t have the ability to summon or control sea monsters.” Cynthia feigns a sigh. In the darkness of the night, her scales shimmer, making her seem like she’s glowing. “We can control ocean water and speak to saltwater creatures, but that’s just about it.”

“’Just about it’?” Leon stares at her incredulously. “That’s amazing already.”

Cynthia raises her brow, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Not as cool as you; sneaking into a ship and freeing me with only a stick, then escaping from your capturer’s grasp like that.”

“I didn’t do it by myself. I had help.” He corrects, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger and trying not to stutter. He feels silly, being affected this much by the presence of beauty.

“The intention is what matters.” Cynthia coos, obviously taking great delight in reducing him into a mess of awkward teenager.

“Okay, stop teasing him.” Argos interrupts, almost sternly if not for the amusement so clear in his voice. “Leon, you should go inside and rest now. It’s been a long night.”

Coming from Argos, it sounds like a mother’s order, firm but laden with concern, and Leon feels exasperated like a child again, this time, but unexpectedly, it isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“Okay, okay.” He pushes himself up and regards both of his companions. “Good night, Cynthia-san, Argos-san.”

“Good night, Leon.” Cynthia’s smile softens into one that’s more genuine as she waves at him and Leon is struck by a sudden image of her leaving in the morning. He doesn’t want her to; he still wants to have her here, hearing her airy remarks between Argos’ stern ones and letting her easy, delighted laughter tug on his lips, but he knows he has no right to hold her back. Who is he anyway, to ask of such thing.

Also, he’s baffled and not a little ashamed that he’s become so clingy all of a sudden.

As if sensing his sudden drop in mood, Argos taps his ankle, once, firm but gentle. Leon blinks down at him.

“We will see you tomorrow.”

Maybe he means it to be light, Leon doesn’t know, but it sounds like a promise. Argos’ gaze is steady, like he knows, and the knot Leon didn’t know was forming in his chest loosens.

He nods. “See you tomorrow.”

Argos doesn’t immediately go back into the water. He stays sitting there, his legs crossed under him, his posture perfectly balanced, watching him padding back to his cabin below. It’s a bit exasperating, and a bit embarrassing too, but it warms his chest, that quiet, caring gesture.

Leon gives him a tiny smile before descending down the ladder.

“Good night, Argos-san.”

*

A seagull joins them the day after. He’s the same seagull Leon saw that morning when he first met Argos, and apparently he is the one who helped him when he was almost caught in the Heartland.

“Enemy Seeking Seagull Soldier, at your service!” He exclaims and salutes, perching at the steering wheel. “If there is anything I can help you with, Leon-sama, don’t hesitate to name it!”

Seagull is energetic and excitable, and having him around makes Leon smile. But he insists on calling him with that honorific, despite Leon’s protest. He grows used to it over time and doesn’t pay much attention to it, but he also notices the creases in Argos’ expression at the honorific, like he’s displeased but can do nothing about it.

Cynthia stays, too. She claims that she has a lot to catch up with Argos and that she also wants to meet her comrades. She’s the polar opposite of Argos, who takes everything seriously, playful and careless in attitude but without being inconsiderate, and on the few nights she spends sitting on the deck with Leon, she doesn’t hold back from showering him with hugs, ignoring Argos’ admonishment for her to respect personal space.

It’s like being back in Gouki’s ship, except they feel more like his blood family because they know his father’s story and talk about it with as much familiarity and nostalgia as he does. Gouki’s crews is his family and he treasures it, but being around Argos and Cynthia and Seagull makes him feel more.

(He doesn’t know the name of it yet, but he’d realize later that being around them makes him feel _whole_ ).

* * *

One gray, raining afternoon, they come across a battle.

Leon recognizes the bigger ship as the group which has been known for causing troubles across the whole Former Japan area—pillaging civilians and crashing their ships just for fun—but what surprises him is the ship it’s attacking. He’d know that ship anywhere, just by seeing the painted sun on its starboard.

“Pirates spotted!” Seagull yells from the mast, squinting, one wing covering his eyes from the pelting raindrops.

“It’s no pirates.” He hears Argos say from the boat’s side, the distaste clear in his voice. “It’s just a group of vagabonds.”

“But they’re equally troublemakers.” Cynthia remarks. “We better steer clear from them.”

“Cynthia says we should steer clear, Leon-sama!” Seagull relays.

Before he’s able to answer, a sudden _boom!_ nearly wrenches his hands off the steering wheel, rattling the whole boat and sending swells slapping against the hull. With a struggle he manages to steady the boat and stares aghast at the cannons jutting out of the bigger ship’s body, still smoking.

The last time he saw the Deathgaze, it’s just a regular ship loaded with two dozens of rogues and troublemakers, but now it’s armed with a row of cannons, threatening to blow its opponent full of holes. The Silver Wolf had managed to evade, if barely, but some must have hit them. Even from this far, he can hear the ecstatic cheer of Deathgaze’s crews.

He knew they are bandits, so it’s to be expected, but watching them looking so gleeful at the prospect of sinking another ship makes his insides boil with bitter fury.

His mind starts racing, keeping in pace with the dread crawling into his chest. The Silver Wolf’s crews are much more skilled than the Deathgaze’s, but faced with firepower, they wouldn’t stand a chance. They don’t have any means to break free from the fight, not like when beating the Deathgaze crews bad enough was sufficient to send them scrambling away.

“Those scums use _cannons_ against an unarmed opponent!”

Leon whips his head around. Argos has climbed onto the deck, his eyes ablaze and his jaw clenched, looking angrier than Leon has ever seen him before.

“They’re rogues. Of course they won’t play fair.” Leon grits his teeth and wrenches his telescope out, biting back a curse when the lens is too drenched to show anything. “We should do something.”

 _But what?_ His mind demands, logically but unhelpfully.

“No.”

“ _Yes._ ” Leon glares at him. “The Silver Wolf doesn’t have any form of firepower. It’ll sink if this keeps up.”

“No, we don’t have to.” Argos raises a hand when Leon opens his mouth to argue. “The help has already arrived.”

Leon is about to tell him that this is no time to be cryptic, but Argos has redirected his gaze ahead, frowning into the distance, his mouth a thin, hard line, waiting. Leon follows his gaze, squinting against the increasing rain.

For a moment nothing happens, enough to drive him almost crazy with anticipation, but suddenly the sea jerks—like a table flipped from one side—abruptly and with such force that both ships teeter sideways, causing the cannons to fire to the dark sky. One punches a hole through the Silver Wolf’s main sail and another blows past one of the masts, but the others speed harmlessly past. Then there’s another lurch, folding and unfolding from between the two ships and toward the Deathgaze, accompanied by fierce waves that slam relentlessly against the ship, flooding the deck and sending crews into the water.

Leon watches, dumbfounded, as the Deathgaze is pushed farther and farther. He faintly registers Seagull’s cheer and Cynthia’s whooping, but what he hears clearest is Argos’ small snort next to him, satisfied and shaken with laughter.

The Deathgaze is tipping back into balance, but it’s obvious that they wouldn’t be resuming their assault. The main and fore sails are ripped, the deck is overflowing with water—which undoubtly has gone down below—and two of the cannons are incredulously bent.

“Wow….”

“They were really going overboard with it.” Argos remarks, trying to sound disapproving but failing; there’s too much mirth and tremor in his voice. “But I wouldn’t say that those vagabonds don’t deserve it.”

“I’m guessing it’s your comrade’s doing.” Leon eyes him from the corner of his eyes, a smile already spreading on his face.

“Yes. And they are lucky it’s not one of the Storm Riders. Or else there would have been much, much more destruction.”

“If it were a Storm Rider, their ship would’ve sunk, General!” Seagull pipes in, sounding too gleeful for his words.

“Indeed.” With an apparent effort, Argos wrestles his face back into a semblance of seriousness. “Let’s just be glad it wasn’t.”

Leon smirks. “Just admit it that you wish it were.”

Argos looks like he wants to deny it, but acquiesces. “…Yes, I guess I do.”

Now that the battle is over and Deathgaze has wobbled away, Leon steers his boat toward the Silver Wolf. The rain is still falling hard and relentlessly, obscuring the view, but the sea is steady again, rocky but normally so.

“I’m going to greet them for a bit.” He tells Argos. “Is it okay with you?”

“Of course. Are you acquainte—“

He’s interrupted by a small commotion breaking out at the boat’s side. Someone is shouting excitedly and Seagull replies with equal energy, then chatter erupts, loud enough to be heard through the rain.

Argos shakes his head, sighing. “They are here.”

There’s a splash, then a bump, and a slight teeter of the boat, before a man appears, climbing onto the deck with a careless ease. He’s dressed similarly to Argos, and looks as human, if not for his bluish skin and a pair of sea green, wing-like things and what seems like a tail protruding from his back.

He grins and salutes. “General.”

Argos acknowledges him with a nod. “It’s been a long time, Lazarus.”

“It has, indeed! We didn’t expect to see you here, and on a boat, with a human even…” He trails off, noticing Leon for the first time, and his eyes lit up like a burst of fireworks. “By the Dragon’s name, Leon-sama! You’re alive!”

Leon doesn’t think he has introduced himself, or has known Lazarus prior to now.

“Not you too.” Argos’ tone is long-suffering. “Lazarus, he’s not Leon-sama.”

He’d thought that it’s just Seagull’s way of calling other people, but watching the exchange before him, there seems to be something more, something or _someone_ , because it’s his name—bar the honorific—but they aren’t talking about him when they say it. And there’s Argos’ apparent dismay over the whole matter.

“But look at him!” Lazarus gestures to him, not impolitely, with his hand, his smile so wide that it seems to stretch his entire face.

“He is—“

They are cut over by another splash, and another man vaults over onto the deck. He’s wearing the same uniform with his hat pulled low over his face, with an impassive expression and sharp eyes. He salutes to Argos, more formally than Lazarus did earlier.

“Tear Knight Theo, reporting for duty.”

“You’re not in any duty right now.” Lazarus rolls his eyes. Theo ignores him.

“Hello, Theo.” Argos nods at him before turning back to Lazarus with a pointed look. “Before we resume this argument, let me remind you that we’re in someone’s company.” He turns around to face Leon. “Leon, they are—“

“Leon-sama.” Theo blurts out, wholly level-toned and blank-faced.

Argos looks like he can’t decide whether to hit himself or his comrades. Leon has to bite back a laugh at that.

“Hello, Theo-san, Lazarus-san.” He leaves the steering wheel and hops to the bow to ease the sheet. “I’m Leon. But drop the -sama, please.”

Theo blinks. Lazarus snickers. “Okay, you were right, General. I don’t think Leon-sama has any sense of humor.”

“He’s not joking.” Argos grumbles, dragging a hand down his face. “Lazarus, Theo, he’s _not_ Leon-sama.”

Leon sees the too-wide smile on Lazarus’ face and the glint in Theo’s eyes, and realizes that they’re just messing with Argos. He briefly wonders if it’s acceptable to tease your superior like this.

“I know, I know. You still don’t have any sense of humor, General.” Lazarus grabs the steering wheel and keeps a hold on it. “Do you need help with that, Leon?”

“I’m fine,” He skids back to the wheel and Lazarus releases it, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re used to this.”

“I am.” Leon smiles back, small.

Argos approaches them. “Leon, you’re going to that ship, aren't you?”

“Yeah.” Leon brushes his wet hair from his face and squints ahead. They are getting closer to the Silver Wolf. “I’m guessing you’ll go hiding somewhere?”

“That’s for the best.” Argos nods. “We will stay at a distance from the ship until you’re back. Then we’ll regroup with you.”

“Sometimes, I miss the old days.” Lazarus bemoans. “We could mingle with humans just well and good back then. Now we have to hide like we’re some kind of abomination.”

Argos frowns at him. “It’s for the best. Magic has no place in this world anymore.” He turns to Leon, effectively dismissing Lazarus’ counter. “We’ll stay close until you arrive there, so call us if you need anything.”

“You don’t need to.” He’s gone mother hen again, much to Leon’s dismay. “I’ll be fine, Argos-san. This isn’t a storm or something.”

“Just in case.” Argos says firmly and with finality. He tugs the hood of Leon’s raincoat back up to cover his hair before vanishing back into the water. Lazarus gives him a helpless, understanding grin and follows suit, Theo close behind him.

*

The captain of the Silver Wolf is furious, understandably.

“Fucking asshole.” He spits, kicking the debris of the ruined cabin into the sea, his eyes smoldering. “I’m going to kill him if I see him again, and then I’m going to kill Kyoya.”

“Now, now, captain,” Jin, one of his crews, says placatingly. “At least it’s not your cabin that’s ruined.” He glances at what remains of the said cabin and grimaces.

The cannon had blown a hole halfway through the ship’s body, destroying a part of the main deck and a whole cabin in the hold, and leaving a gaping hole where people can easily plunge into the sea from.

The young captain looks around at the damage and sighs heavily, the fury still simmering in it. He turns to another one of his crew. “How’s the main sail?”

“It’s holey, but Zanya said it can be patched.” Gao replies. He’s the second youngest among the crews, and the one who seems to be least deterred by the captain’s fit of fury. “He and Akatsuki are working on it. No problem over there, Rouga-senpai.”

“How about the mast?”

Gao cringes. “Bad. Just need Cerberus barking on it to snap it clean off.”

Rouga sighs. “Alright. How long can we get to the nearest land?”

“I’ll go ask Megumi.” Jin saunters to the ladder. “She’s checking our position, I think.”

“Okay.” Rouga nods, seeming to have regained composure. He sweeps a wry gaze at the destruction around them once more, then motions for Leon to follow him.

“Do you need any help with the ship?” Leon asks as they stride across the main deck.

“No.” Rouga says gruffly. “We’ll be fine.”

He wrenches the door to his cabin open and strides inside. Leon waits by the door, listening to the ruffle and shuffle from inside the room, Gao peering in curiously from his side.

“Are you staying, Leon-senpai?”

“No. I just wanted to greet you and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Oh,” Gao lowers his head dejectedly. “It’s been months since we last met. I thought you can stay for dinner and we can catch up.”

“We’re in the middle of the damn ocean, Gao.” Rouga appears from the room with a stack of books, wrapped neatly in a plastic bag. “He stays for dinner, his boat would be miles somewhere by the time he’s finished.”

“We can hook her to our ship.” Gao suggests eagerly.

Rouga swats at his head, knocking his cap over. Gao yelps and fumbles for it mid-air. “Look at the weather, dummy. Who knows if it’ll get better or worse.”

He ignores the betrayed look the younger boy gives him and dumps the books into Leon’s arms. “Tatsumi told me to give these to you. It’s this year’s material, the entire year’s.”

Leon stares down at the pile of books, most of which, he knows, are painstakingly handwritten by his teacher. “Rouga-san, I don’t know when I’ll be able to return these.”

“She said it’s fine.” Rouga closes the door behind him and heads toward the ladder. “She can make another copies. And you know her. She won’t let you miss your lessons if she can help it.”

“She gave me books to study too.” Gao pipes up, grinning.

Leon readjusts the books in his arms. “Thank you, Rouga-san. Can you please tell Tatsumi-sensei thank you for me too?”

“Yeah, will do, when I meet her.” Rouga waves a hand at him before descending back down into the hold. “Good luck finding your family.”

*

The rain has stopped when night falls, and the sky is clear, stretching black satin and studded with diamond stars above them. The sea is steady again, and boatless enough that Cynthia deems it safe to sit on deck and accompany Leon in his dinner, Lazarus joining them barely a second later. It’s rice cakes and boiled tuna tonight with a small bowl of tofu soup—simple meal that he’d offered to make for them, but which they’d all declined since they don’t necessarily need to eat—and he nibbles the rice absently while listening to the five catching up with each other.

Cynthia and Lazarus ask him about school while flipping through his books, as Theo and Argos debate over a comrade’s possible involvement in the capture of a human trafficking ring two years ago in the background. He tells them about his school, a ship with only one teacher and a wide cabin as the classroom, how the students live in there during school months—all looking after each other and doing chores together—and are picked up by their families on holidays. He tells them about the bright mornings they spent studying under the sun and afternoons they spent fishing for food. He tells them about his classmates.

At some point during his story, gently encouraged by Cynthia’s and Lazarus’ questions, the other three have stopped talking and started listening to him too. It’s awkward at first, being looked at so attentively by five, four of which are people, but then Lazarus jokes and Seagull laughs and Cynthia teases, and Theo dishing out remarks flatly, and Argos looks torn between smiling and scolding, and the tension in him melts, just like that.

He considers asking about that name, about Leon-sama, but the atmosphere is warm and light and snug, like sitting around the stove in cold nights, and bringing it up might shatter it. The name, or _person_ , feels like something heavy; something cherished and mourned and remembered with a fond smile, like Leon’s only memory of his parents, except he doesn’t mind talking about his parents but he’s not sure Argos and the others want to talk about this.

So for the moment, he thinks he’s okay with not knowing.

*

Theo and Lazarus leave in the third morning, when the sunlight is still soft and the last of the night is a sliver on the horizon.

Lazarus clamps his shoulder with a grin and Theo bows and tells him that it’s been a pleasure, then both promise him that they will come whenever he needs help, he just needs to send his SOS to them somehow.

Leon smiles, it’s hard not to when faced with Lazarus’ cheer, but when they’ve dropped back into water and are bidding farewell to their comrades, the tiny seedling of fear taking root in his heart breaks to the surface and makes itself known. It’s been there ever since he’d grown used to Argos’ presence, to his mother hen-ing and his greetings in the morning, to his knowing gaze and caring exasperation, and it’s been all but growing as he met the others and integrated their presences into his life.

This is not permanent, this small band of people, united by a shared goal and a promise of assistance. At some point in their journey, Argos and Cynthia and Seagull would leave, whether when they’ve found all of their comrades or merely because they want to.

(He still doesn’t even know why Argos agreed to journey with him in the first place, or why Cynthia and Seagull stay. He has a hunch, though, and maybe when it’s confirmed, it would sweep his worries away. Or not.)

It’s unavoidable and he knew that, thought he would be okay with that—he’d managed with the homesickness and the jarring absence of noise on the weeks following his leaving of Gouki’s crews—but much to his frustration, it seems that the anticipation isn’t enough to actually make it okay.

“What will you do from now on?” Cynthia asks.

“Continuing with our job.” Lazarus says. “Fighting pirates.”

“More like, fighting miscreants.” Theo deadpans. “Pirates don’t exist anymore in this world.”

“Nah, they’re all the same at their core.” Lazarus shrugs. “Troublemakers.”

That coaxes a wry smile out of Argos. “True. Stay out of trouble, though.”

“You got it, General.” Lazarus grins. It fades as he straightens, squares his shoulders, and raises his hand into a firm salute. “Tear Knight Lazarus, ready to deploy.”

“Deploy for what.” Theo mumbles, but he too does the same, his sharp eyes sobering under the brim of his hat.

Argos returns the salute, and for a moment Leon sees him the way he’s supposed to be: a leader, steady and serious and grim, even though there’s a tiniest ripple in his eyes.

“Keep up the good work, soldiers.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, they’re off, waving one last time at him before disappearing into the sea.

*

“After you’ve found all of your comrades, what are you going to do?”

Argos wrenches his gaze from the pink-painted horizon and looks at him. “Pardon?”

“Theo-san and Lazarus-san said they’re going to keep fighting pirates.” Leon glances at him. “What about you?”

Argos is quiet for a long time, his eyes set back against the horizon, light creases marring his eyebrows. He looks conflicted, and he looks at Leon like he wants to say something but decides against it on the last moment.

“I’m not sure yet.” He settles, and it’s laughably paper-thin, the answer, that Leon is sure a right prodding would tear it to pieces, revealing the true one underneath.

But Argos doesn’t give him the chance to. “What about you, Leon? What will you do after you’ve found your family?”

Leon frowns at him long and hard, but this once, Argos doesn’t budge, feigning unawareness.

“That depends on where they are, and how they’re doing.” He redirects his frown reluctantly to his fishing hook bobbing lightly in the water. “If they let me, I’ll stay with them, and maybe go to school if there’s one nearby. If they don’t, I’ll just go back to Gouki-san’s crews. If they allow me to rejoin them, that is.”

Logically, his family wouldn’t mind him staying with them, but there’s a part of him that believes that he might not be welcomed anymore in their lives, that there is not a space he can try to fit in anymore.

He readjusts his grip on the fishing pole and tries to squash the thought. Being uncertain and afraid wouldn’t do him any good, would only add to the resigned anticipation nesting deep in his heart, and he hates to feel vulnerable like that.

“Of course they will let you.” Argos’ incredulous frown is clear in his voice. “They are your family. I can just imagine them being overjoyed when they see you.”

“…I guess.”

He reels the line in, a fish hung glistening on the hook, and lets the conversation dissolve in the sea air, among the sunset clouds.

* * *

Two weeks later, a sea otter comes with a distress message for Argos and Cynthia.

“An officer cadet needs your help.” He says, his kindly eyes creasing into a concerned frown. “His friend is injured. I was told to look for a medical officer, but…” He looks at the two of them. “Do you happen to know where one might be? The estimation of their position, maybe?”

“No, we’re still looking for the other officers ourselves.” Cynthia’s expression is tight with worry. “Which cadet, Sea Otter? Where is he?”

“It’s Alecs.” The sea otter replies, then proceeds to tell them the direction to the location.

“We’ll go there. Keep looking for the medic, Otter.” Argos looks up at Leon, his expression a mirror of Cynthia’s. “Leon, do you—“

He’s already on the steering wheel. “I’m on it.”

*

The place is a site of ruins. Not the ruins of ancient civilization, of castles and pyramids, but of the time when humans still lived on land, when the ocean stayed instead of crawling higher and higher into the shore. Water has flooded and sunk the city, but dead skyscrapers and the inclined tip of towers jut out through to the surface. When one dives down, they would see the city the way it used to be, with houses and streetlights and cars, except all have rusted and rotted and bent, crawled with seaweed, with fish flitting in and out of gaping windows and ruined doors, dark except for shafts of light from the sun in bright days.

It’s a solemn place, the air heavy with wordless regret, and the place where raiders can hope for a good haul of antique objects, or if they’re extremely lucky, books.

Leon drops the anchor somewhere in the middle of the ruins, far enough from the skyscrapers to avoid any dropping debris. Argos and Cynthia submerge immediately after, with an order from Argos that if anything should happen, like bandits or sudden storm, he must not wait for them. He wants to help—he’s a raider himself, he dives very well, and they need to find those officers as fast as they can—but Argos has sternly refused to let him.

So he waits, with growing unease and worry despite Seagull’s attempt of comfort.

About half and hour passed before both Argos and Cynthia finally resurface, the sound of them breaking through water splintering the tight silence emanated by the looming skyscrapers. There’s a boy in Argos’ arms, pale and limp, his eyes closed. Another boy is close by his side, his face twisted in worry and despair, his mismatched eyes constantly flicking back and forth between his friend and the older man.

Leon drops into the water and approaches them, first aid procedures and the location of the nearest land flickering rapid fire in his head, but they come to a halt when he sees Argos’ face.

His head is dipped and the brim of his hat casts shadow over his eyes, but Leon can see clearly the hard set of his jaw and the pressing of his lips, can sense something grim and pained in the way he’s rooted in place, the way he’s holding the boy in his arms like he’s breakable.

Leon looks at the boy, and an ice cold fist grips his heart.

“General?” The other boy croaks, his voice scraped and small and teetering, worried and confused and terrified.

The air around them is thick and thin both at once, smothering but spider web fragile, and it shakes and fractures when Argos finally speaks, very gently, the grief thinly veiled in his voice enough to know that he means it, that he doesn’t say it just out of formality.

“I’m sorry, Alecs.”

No one breathes for a second, two, three, and when Alecs finally does, it comes out in shudders, loud and harsh, like the breath is wrenched out of his lungs.

“W-What do you mean you’re s-sorry, General? H-he— Don’t—“ He’s trembling, choking on his own words. “Don’t— Please— Please d-don’t give up, General, not on him. Not Sotirio.”

“I’m so sorry.” Argos lifts his face and looks at him, and his expression is cracking and crumbling on its seams, held together only by years of experience and an unmoved sense of duty, of seniority. “There’s nothing I can do. He’s…”

“B-But he’s still h-here! He hasn’t— didn’t— disappear, n-not like General Genovious. He c-can’t be—“ He cuts himself off abruptly.

“I don’t know why, but,” Argos seems like every word hurt him. “maybe, he would not let go if you don’t.”

“W-What?”

“It was the same with General Benedict.” Cynthia says softly. “He was dying, but only when Leon-sama promised him that we would be okay, that he… let go.”

“But—“ Alecs halts, swallows. “H-He said to wait here, t-to not move until another officer came, because it— it hurt for him to move. He can’t be—”

“I think he was worried about you.” Argos says carefully. “He wanted you to be taken in by another officer, so you won’t have to be alone.”

“But—“ Even as he says it, the conviction is draining from him. Alecs looks at Sotirio, at his ashen face and unmoving figure, and the fight seems to spill out from him.

Cynthia puts a hand on his shoulder and the boy crumbles under her touch, shaking and sobbing quietly, too quietly, like he’s still holding on to a fragment of self-restraint he’s had remained. She tries to hug him but he wouldn’t budge, refusing to be consoled.

It feels like an eternity before Alecs’ tears finally cease. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and breathes in. He looks at his friend, and then with self-control that’s heartbreaking to watch, he says,

“Thank you for— for everything. I’m sorry that I was useless, and… and that I cried, I- I know that soldiers aren’t supposed to. To cry. But… But I’ll be okay now, Sotirio, so…” He inhales, short and shaky. “It’s okay for you to… to go.”

As the last word leaves his tongue, the boy dissolves into water, spilling from Argos’ arms and through his fingers into the sea, shimmering as it catches the light of the setting sun. The sea sounds like it is sighing, and Leon fleetingly thinks of _the dragon is calling for his people_ , inexplicably. He watches as the light drifts away and scatters, shards of diamonds that are lost in the vast ocean.

*

His tiny garden only has vegetable plants, but there’s a lone pot of marigold in there, snuck in by Nagisa among the spinachs and celeries. He snips all of the freshly bloomed flowers and spreads them on the sea, letting the tide carry them away. The marigolds are too vibrant, too cheerful for mourning, but both Argos and Cynthia give him small, grateful smiles. The three of them watch silently, side by side, as dawn breaks on the horizon and swallows the dots of yellow and orange in a spill of golden light.

*

The day Alecs finally says something is the day when Seagull manages to persuade him to get aboard, under the excuse that he’s going somewhere for a moment and he needs someone to cover his post. It’s flimsy, but Alecs doesn’t seem to have the drive to object, or he simply doesn’t mind.

Leon sits with him on the bow at dinner and offers him a bowl of soup, still steaming, because anything warm always makes him feel better whenever he’s sad. Or lonely. Alecs speaks to him politely and formally until Leon tells him that he doesn’t need to. He looks disconcerted at first, like he’s just been told to stop speaking one language and start speaking another one he’s almost forgotten, but he warms up to it after a few days.

Neither Alecs nor Leon is the talkative sort, but they’re content with light conversations interspersed with comfortable silence. Alecs seems to take great interest in school and science and stories, and he’s especially enchanted with fairy tales.

One day, someday in the second week after that afternoon, when gray outlines of clouds streak the sky and the sea sways like a hammock, Alecs talks, quietly, about Sotirio. The both of them had stayed together after the war—one that had destroyed their kingdom and scattered them—he says. They had found another one of the senior officer, Pavroth, but after seeing that the two of them were alright, he had let go, had willingly perished, despite Alecs’ plea, because there was no more battles to be fought and master to be served.

He pauses for a long time, his breathing low and hard and his mismatched eyes set firmly ahead even though they’re rippling.

Genovious had died in battle, he says, and Pavroth had passed willingly, but Sotirio died because of something as unfortunate, as painfully escapable, as a building that had collapsed on them. They were hiding from a band of raiders when it did, and Sotirio hadn’t been fast enough to escape. Alecs had only managed to free him from under the rubbles after a week, but he’d probably died in the first night.

“Maybe if I’d gone and looked for help instead of staying there—” He swallows hard and buries his nose in his arms.

“There was nothing you can do even if you did.” Leon says, holding back from flinching from his own words. The truth is barb instead of solace, but he needs to say it because Alecs have watched three of his comrades die and he deserves this small, fleeting consolation. “I think you did right by staying with him. No one deserves to die alone.”

Alecs is quiet for a long time. When he shifts his face to look at him, he’s blinking away tears. “…Yes, no one does.”

Leon nods, wordlessly.

They say nothing for the rest of the dinner, but Leon thinks—wishful though it might be—that Alecs look a little bit lighter after that.

* * *

Argos had thought that after finding all of his comrades and making sure they’re okay, he would finally be able to let go, to let the ocean reclaim him and, like what Leon-sama had said to Benedict all those hundred of years ago, be at peace.

But then he met the boy, a spitting image of Leon-sama on his last year, and he isn’t so sure anymore.

There is no doubt that Leon is Leon-sama’s descendant, and the realization freed the grief long nested in his heart. The mere existence of the boy proves that Leon-sama had survived the kingdom’s destruction, had lived freely long enough to bear children—an impossibility if he’d been caught by the enemy—and the knowledge of it is enough.

So Argos follows him, partly because he wants to look after him _to find a reason for going on again_ , and partly to relive the aching nostalgia.

Leon is different from Leon-sama (of course), that was what he learned first. Maybe it’s due to the difference in upbringing and circumstances and people they have interacted with, but Leon is easier to be coaxed to smile, and how he expresses himself—his exasperation, his mirth, his concern—is lighter and more open, not hidden behind the practiced mask of calm composure. He’s earnest, and impulsive at times, and stubborn in a young, childlike way, unlike Leon-sama who was more iron-willed than stubborn, weighed by responsibility and forced adulthood.

But they’re also similar in the way they hide sadness and the way they seem to regard vulnerability as something shameful. Leon had looked nonchalant when he told Argos about his one man search of his family, but for Argos, it just made his loneliness stand out more.

(Or maybe it’s him who’ve become so good in reading both Leon and Leon-sama)

As days go by, the differences grow more pronounced, and for that Argos is enormously thankful.

There are times, though, that he wishes Leon is more like Leon-sama, more self-conscious and less stubborn, because then he wouldn’t be there, under water, clawing on the tentacle that’s dragging Argos down into the embrace of a giant octopus even when he is pulled with it, ignoring every bit of Argos’ desperate plea for him to leave.

It had started out when Leon ran across another boat, one which he seems to recognize, and Argos sensed something foreboding from down under, from a spot much deeper than the sunk ground of the ruins they’d sailed into. Cynthia and Alecs sensed it too, and they told Leon, and Leon warned the other boat about it, only to learn that the raiders of that boat have dived into the very spot just a few minutes before.

He’d asked them to help look for those raiders, just in case, and Argos had told him to stay but he’d refused (Leon-sama would’ve stayed, because he was aware of how irreplaceable he was to take the risk).

It turned out to be a giant octopus, welded on the sea floor in the depth where water turns dark, and it had the raiders in the grip of its tentacles.

Everything burst into motion after that; Alecs shot toward the tentacles and stabbed them with his daggers as Cynthia threw her trident at the octopus’ head. Argos himself felt the old, familiar weight of his weapon as it materialized on his hand, and didn’t waste any time to bombard the monster with it.

Alecs managed to chop the tentacles off so the raiders could break free. Leon grabbed one of them and they hauled themselves to the surface, and Argos signaled to the others to retreat as well, but before they were able to, the octopus grabbed them and dragged them down.

They were three hardened soldiers against one monster, but no matter how much they twisted and pulled against it, they were losing.

And then

there’s Leon

clawing on and stabbing the tentacle holding him with a diver’s knife, his eyes flashing and rippling in the way Leon-sama’s never did, refusing to give up and save himself even though he’s very much human and very much just a child.

Argos yells at him to _go, what are you doing, just go_ but Leon persists until something slick and lean slips underneath him and hauls him away.

What comes after that is the blue, heavy darkness of the octopus’ embrace. He kicks and wrenches, but it doesn’t budge. Somewhere next to him Alecs let out a choked cry and fear crashes against his chest _Genovious dissolving when the enemy dragon crushed him between its fangs, Benedict clinging on to life even with the hole in his chest, Sotirio spilling into shards of light from his hands,_ and no, he can’t let more of his comrades die, not like this.

It feels like a flash and an eternity both at once when the hold on him shudders and loosens along with a heavy, crumbling sound. He yanks his arms free and when his sword solidifies in his hand he rams it into the tentacle with all his strength.

The entire world quakes and blackens solid around him. He kicks himself free and tries not to suffocate in the ink. Illuminated by the weak glow of his sword, he finds Alecs and disentangles the boy from the folds of tentacles around him. Cynthia is with them on the next second, her scales shimmering in the black darkness. They push through the forest of tentacles and all but shoot to the surface when they’re out, only sparing a glance at the giant octopus. A building has fallen and pitted it onto the sea floor, not enough to keep it there forever but enough to give them time to escape. Rubbles rain down on it, slowly but obscuring, and the octopus is busy swatting them away.

They break to the surface at the same time Leon does. He makes a beeline toward them, his face marred with raw, fresh worry that seems foreign on him. A dolphin—another beast officer—plops out from the water next to him, keeping close by his side.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” His eyes dart from Argos to Cynthia to Alecs.

“We’re alright.” Cynthia assures him, even as she herself runs her eyes across Alecs and Argos, obviously checking for injuries. “Are you okay, Leon?”

The tension on Leon’s face loosens a fraction. “I—Yeah. But we should leave this place quickly. That octopus…”

“Don’t worry about the octopus.” A blue-haired head attached to firm, white-clad shoulders rips through the water surface behind him. “It wouldn’t go anywhere for a while. But yes, we should leave as soon as we’re able.” He sees Argos and straightens, salutes. “General.”

“Tidal.” The adrenaline in him hasn’t quite stopped, but among the ebbing fear and agitation, there’s a wash of relief to see another one of his comrades alive and in good condition. “Was it you who dropped that building on the octopus?”

Tidal Assault nods. “Just like Leon-sama instructed.”

“It was your idea?” Cynthia beams. “Good thinking, Leon!”

“It was all Tidal-san’s doing.” Leon doesn’t stutter but it’s a close thing. “It wouldn’t be possible without him. And Dolphin too.” The Dolphin nuzzles him affectionately, seeming to be attached to him already.

“But it was your idea.” Argos smiles. “We owe you our lives.”

The spark of pride and affection in him surprises himself, and before he’s able to register what he’s doing, he places his hand on Leon’s head. He sees the boy’s eyes widen, and all gears in his brains screech to a halt and start spinning backwards. He immediately retracts his hand, very much appalled of himself.

“Ah— My apologies.”

Maybe it’s the trick of light, or his brain hasn’t quite catch up yet, but Leon seems faintly disappointed at the loss of touch, before Cynthia reaches over and pulls him flush against her, rubbing her cheek on his hair.

“Yes, we owe you our lives, and I owe you twice as much.”

Leon does stutter, this time, before the arrival of Seagull saves him from further embarrassment.

“Leon-sama,” The bird flies down to the edge of the boat. “that other boat is approaching!”

Everyone tense, but Leon doesn’t look worried. “It’s okay.” He tells them. “They just want to talk. You guys can stay here if you want to, you’re hidden enough.” He pries himself free from Cynthia’s hold and climbs onto the boat, disappearing to the other side.

In the interval, Tidal fills them in about the message he and Dolphin received from Sea Otter, and how they were on their way to Alecs’ location when they came across Leon. It twists the pit of his stomach and reminds him of that afternoon all over again, but Argos tells them about Sotirio, eventually.

Tidal is silent, his expression morphing into something bitter, and Argos knows that he’s remembering that war and all those deaths centuries ago, their former comrades spilling into the sea around them. Dolphin lets out a high-pitched squeak, a dolphin’s call, and presses against Alecs. The boy doesn’t cry, though; his tears might have dried or those evenings he spent talking to Leon might have helped.

Not long after, Seagull comes and tells them that they’re leaving, and they all submerge, following the boat as it sails away from the ruins and the giant octopus beneath.

*

They hold the usual introductions in the evening, and the two newcomers exchange news with them as Leon sits with his meal at the edge of the boat, listening, Alecs next to him with a steaming bowl in his hands (It has become a habit, he notices—Alecs sitting with Leon and having something warm—ever since the boys started to talk to each other).

In the lull of the conversation, when they seem to have run out of news to tell, Leon asks about Leon-sama.

Cynthia is the one who replies, without the slightest hint of hesitation. Among them, she’s the one who seems to take the memories quite well, remembering them with more fond smile than lamentation. Most of the other officers, him included, can’t recall their last master without mourning the lost comrades and the end of the Blue Storm Dragon, and along with it, the fall of the kingdom. It embarrasses Argos that she’s stronger than him when he’s supposed to be the leader of them.

She tells Leon about their former master, to whom he bore an uncanny resemblance with down to his name, about Leon-sama’s kingdom and how it was destroyed as it fought against another king who wanted to conquer the whole continent.

Leon listens intently, but so do everyone, and Argos see their eyes flicker with past memories, relieving it with every word of the story.

“So you call me ‘Leon-sama’ because I look like him.” Leon says at the end of the story, after a thoughtful pause, a question mark hanging suspended at the end of his sentence.

“No.” Tidal affirms. “You’re Leon-sama because you’re Leon-sama’s descendant. Not merely because you look like him.”

“Not just his descendant, no,” Seagull flies down from the mast to perch next to Alecs. “I believe he’s Leon-sama reincarnated.”

Argos resists the urge to run a hand through his face. “Seagull, we’ve talked about this.”

“But that’s not entirely impossible, General.” Alecs says, his first words in the day. He gives Leon a guilty look. “I’m sorry, Leon-sama.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s okay.” Leon pats his back, a faint smile ghosting on his lips. “I don’t really believe in reincarnation, but I’m glad that I’m connected to someone that honorable.”

There’s nothing forced or shaded in his expression, and Argos wants to believe him, but he can’t brush off the concern entirely. So when he finds him that night, sitting on deck, still awake and outside despite the late hour and the biting wind, he climbs up and sits next to him.

“Why are you not in bed yet?”

Leon gives him a look that’s streaked with long-suffering and incredulity. “Argos-san, I’m past the age to have a curfew.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“And managing by myself so far. I’ve earned my early adulthood, I think.” He sounds flippant, almost proud.

(That’s another reason he cares, too. Leon-sama’s childhood had been too short, the adulthood forced onto his shoulders when he was just eleven, and it still pains Argos up to this day. He wants Leon to be able to be a child, to be worried over and fussed upon, to be hugged and spoiled, to be free of life’s burden at least until he’s ready)

“You should not wish for an early adulthood.” Argos responds, matter-of-factly.

Leon gives him a small, one-sided smile, which if he reads correctly, clearly says _do you really think you can stop me by saying that?_

Argos narrows his eyes at him, but then decides to drop the light chitchat and goes straight to the point, to the concern gnawing on his mind. “I apologize about Seagull and Alecs.”

Leon looks at him, his eyebrows raised. “What for?”

“They don’t mean any harm with it, but it’s unacceptable to treat you as someone else, regardless of your similarities.”

“Is this about the reincarnation matter?”

Argos nods. “They believe you’re Leon-sama, only reborn in different time.” And they might meet other officers who would do the same. Argos wants to be sure that Leon really is okay with the whole matter.

Leon hums in acknowledgment. “I don’t feel like I’m treated as someone else, so I’m okay with it. Besides, I’m just happy that you and the others are here. I don’t really care for the reason.”

He gives him a tired look. “I really _am_ okay, Argos-san. I’m telling you the truth.”

Argos realizes that he’s been staring, searching the boy’s face for the smallest hint of a lie, a veiled hurt or disappointment, and quickly smoothens his expression. “Alright.”

“And because they treat me like that, I got to know about my possible ancestor, and that’s good.” Leon looks back to the dark sea, to the three-quarter moon lying fractured on the surface. “It makes me feel less like…” He seems to struggle for words. “like I’m by myself, like I’m not a part of anything.”

It clicks on him then, why Leon is lonely, and it’s not just because he’s by himself in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the unreadable and wordless ocean.

“Leon,” He says softly. “you do have a family, beside your aunt whom you’re looking for, like the crews who had taken you in. You don’t have to be related by blood to be a family.”

“I know.” Leon huffs the words exasperatedly. “It’s just— Everyone has parents or uncles or siblings, and I don’t. It’s—“ He sighs, slumping slightly. “Never mind. I sound like a brat.”

“It’s lonely.”

The surprise in Leon’s eyes is fleeting, but Argos sees it.

“…Yeah.”

It comes out small and quiet, like it’s not meant to be heard, but Argos commits it to memory, this moment, this sound of honesty, because he’s not sure if anyone else has ever had the privilege to hear it _and Leon-sama was never this open, ever_.

Maybe it’s because Leon looks so vulnerable, in that moment, that Argos doesn’t really think (it’s better if he doesn’t let himself think) when he pats him, again, this time. His hand is tense and his movement is awkward and he notices Leon stiffening, but after a second both of them relax into the touch. Argos almost laments the moment he pulls his hand back.

“Don’t worry. I will accompany you until you find your family. Seagull and Cynthia and Alecs might, too.”

“Wha—“ Leon swivels on his seat to face him. “You don’t have to!”

Argos can’t help but deflating, a bit. “Do you not want us to?”

“I do! I’d really love to have you all here, but,” Leon lowers his voice when Cynthia pops her head out of the water questioningly. She sinks back as soon as she sees it’s just them talking. “I don’t want you to stay just because you… feel sorry for me.” The words seem to pain him. “I’ll be okay. Really.”

Argos’ chest twists. The thought isn’t entirely baseless, after their conversation (or maybe Leon has been thinking it from the start, which Argos desperately hopes not), but it still saddens him.

“Leon, I’m not staying with you because I feel sorry for you. I _want_ to.”

The look Leon gives him is dubious. Argos doesn’t let himself be disheartened.

“Listen, I…”

He hesitates. Honesty is tugging on his tongue, the words already there, but a part of him says _you can’t burden him with the responsibility of your existence, your reason to keep on living, you can’t, he’ll agree because he’s kind and lonely, but you can’t do that to him, you have to let him go_.

Leon is looking at him, patiently and—if he knows where, _how_ to look—hopefully, but also warily, like he’s preparing himself for the worst, and Argos decides, _I might be selfish, but he deserves this._

“Ever since that first time we talked, I have always wanted to follow you, to accompany you until you find your family. That is part of the reason I agreed for you to help me.”

“…What about the other part?”

“The other part is because you make me feel nostalgic.” He smiles a bit, ruefully. “I didn’t ask of this before because I didn’t want to impose on you, but…” He wrenches the words free. “if you would let me, I would like to stay with you, even after you’ve found your family.”

The silence hangs by a cord between them, and Argos internally panics _I’ve said it and I have ruined everything_.

When Leon speaks, his tone is all uneven, teetering edge. “Even after you’ve found all of your comrades?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The silence is shorter this time, but it feels like an eternity for him until Leon lifts his face again. He’s not quite smiling, but his whole expression is alight, not unlike the glowing moon on the sea.

“Yeah.” He says, and Argos feels all the shame and anticipation and worry in him start to dissolve. “I’d really like it if you do. Staying with me, even after that.”

His chest feels light and full, as if something in him has inflated and is pressing against his ribs, lifting him up, and he’s so overwhelmed with that unnamed feeling that he can only manage the simplest, the most basic, of words.

“Thank you.”

Leon looks surprised at how heartfelt he sounds, but his expression fades then into a smile, the one with that exasperated, fond twist.

“Thank _you_ , Argos-san.”

* * *

Cynthia leaves, eventually, when they come across another one of the mermaids (the _battle sirens_ , Leon corrects himself, because Dorothea seems indignant to be regarded as a mermaid). The two of them are going to look for the other battle sirens and visit the Bermuda mermaids after that—much to Dorothea’s chagrin—and then travel the world, again.

“We’ll come visit you with Neferli and Orthia sometime.” Cynthia promises. “And maybe with others who survived and we didn’t know about. It’s going to be crowded, so prepare yourself.” She smiles, her eyes twinkling, and then she pulls him into a hug. Her arms and the watery smell of her are so, very familiar to him now. “Stay safe, okay? Don’t run General into an early death, and keep smiling.”

Leon breathes out a laugh and she laughs with him.

“You too, Cynthia-san. Don’t get caught again.”

When she lets go, he doesn’t deny that he’s sad, but somehow, he’s not worried. He does about her safety, but he doesn’t about her promise, not as much as he would have, back then.

Dorothea bows to him, all formal and stiffly polite, but when she straightens, there’s a semblance of a smile on her face. “I pray that we will meet again, Leon-sama.”

Leon smiles back, and he still is as he watches them go, weaving through the swells before the sea swallows them.

“They will be alright.” Argos says.

“I know.”

Tidal says something about the Bermuda mermaids, and Alecs turns to listen, Seagull perching on his shoulder. Leon looks away from them to glance at Argos.

“It only occurred to me now, but what if we find my aunt before we find all of your comrades?”

He can almost see the abrupt halt of Argos’ thought process, the gears screeching into a stop. “That’s…”

That momentarily lost, concerned look has become so familiar and endearing to him that the smile in his chest bubbles and spills into a laugh. “It’s okay, I can go with you after I’ve spent some times with my aunt,”

“No.” Argos shakes his head vehemently. “You should stay with them, and go to school. You must not—“

“Or you can come back to my place after you’ve found all your comrades.” Leon climbs onto the boat and looks at him, his heart vibrating against his ribs. He wonders if he’s being too audacious, but he wants to trust Argos’ promise as much as he does Cynthia’s.

Argos looks stunned. “You would let me do that?”

 _Why wouldn’t I?_ “Yeah.”

The subtle tension along Argos’ spine loosens, dissipates. When he speaks them, the words sound less like a promise, more like a fact.

“I’ll come back.”

Leon smiles.

“I’ll hold on to that, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> List of cameos:  
> -Future Card Buddyfight: Kodo-san & Rocinante (Dragon Knight El Quixote), Noboru, Rouga, Gao, Jin, Zanya, Akatsuki, Megumi, Cerberus, and Tatsumi (fem!Tasuku). And the Deathgaze.  
> -Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal: Haruto, Kaito (unnamed), Orbital 7 (unnamed).  
> -Yu-Gi-Oh Arc V: Sora, "that one circus ship with the funny name."
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
